Ma Jian - Beijing Coma

‘There are a million people in the Square now, and large crowds manning the barricades around the city,’ Sister Gao said anxiously to Shu Tong. ‘How will the Federation manage to keep everyone under control?’

‘The Federation should hold a meeting,’ Shu Tong said. ‘The Hunger Strike Headquarters are having one right now over there. Pass me a clove of garlic.’ He picked up his chopsticks and dug into the polystyrene box of fried pork and mustard shoots he’d brought from the university cafeteria. Near the Museum of Chinese History, student officers were handing out free boxed lunches paid for by the Hong Kong Student Association, but you had to queue for hours to get one.

Zhang Jie and Xiao Li walked over from the Headquarters’ tent, looking for something to eat. They’d spent all morning supervising the student marshal teams.

‘Hundreds of marshals have been guarding this monument for hours, not even taking time off to have lunch, just so that you lot can lie here and sunbathe,’ Zhang Jie said, taking the cucumber Mimi handed him.

‘So what decision have the Headquarters come to?’ Hai Feng asked him.

‘Bai Ling and Lin Lu have only just turned up,’ he replied. ‘They’re discussing whether to call for a nationwide strike.’ He grabbed two rolls, squeezed them together then took a large bite.

‘The Square is swarming with plain-clothes policemen,’ Sister Gao said to Mimi. ‘If someone asks you what your name is, don’t tell them.’

‘Do you mean there are spies out here?’ Mimi’s voice had become much brighter since she’d stopped her hunger strike.

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘When you’re standing in the courtroom in a few months’ time, you’ll be shown videotapes of yourself eating cucumbers with Shu Tong.’

Mimi glanced nervously to her left and right. ‘I can’t imagine how it must feel to see men charging towards you with electric batons in their hands,’ she said. She was wearing Tian Yi’s blue plastic visor. The sunlight bouncing off it dazzled my eyes.

I stood up, shook the crumbs from my trousers and looked into the distance. I could see hundreds of students on the roofs of the buses parked along the north edge of the Square. Some were lying down on quilts, others were sitting up waving red flags. It looked like an elevated theatre stage.

‘Ten portable toilets have been put up outside the Museum of Chinese History,’ Hai Feng said.

‘Make an announcement, otherwise no one will know they’re there,’ Tian Yi said, getting up. She and Mimi were planning to head off to Xuanwumen Hotel. The Hong Kong Student Association had established a liaison office in one of the rooms there. It was the turn of the Beijing University students to use the shower in its en suite bathroom.

‘Look at the vast crowd we’ve got here,’ Mao Da said. ‘The martial law order hasn’t been very successful, has it?’

‘Have a look at these,’ said Shu Tong, handing Mimi the pile of reports that Yu Jin had collected. ‘If you find anything interesting, you can put it in your newscasts.’

‘They’re all about the citizens’ blockades,’ Mimi said, leafing through them and sorting them into three separate piles. ‘We can use this one about residents forming a human wall across the street, and this one about soldiers violently forcing their way through a blockade. That should be enough.’

Tian Yi selected some other reports and knelt down to write a quick bulletin. When she’d finished, I picked it up and read it out loud. ‘“Armed police in steel helmets charged out of the Zhongnanhai government compound with electric batons and attacked the students who were staging a peaceful sit-in outside. The Beijing University students Liu Wei, an English major, and Gu Yanting, a post-graduate student in the Department of African and Asian Studies, both suffered head and chest injuries and have been taken to hospital.”’

‘I think it’s best you don’t broadcast any reports about injured students,’ Shu Tong said, sticking his chin up.

‘I don’t want to hear that kind of news either,’ Mimi said.

‘Dai Wei, go and listen in on the Headquarters’ meeting,’ Shu Tong said. ‘Once we know what they’ve decided, we can come up with our own plan.’ He moved his lips about after he spoke, as though he were trying to remove a scrap of food lodged between his teeth.

‘They wouldn’t let me in. I’m not a member of the standing committee.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Hai Feng said. ‘It’s a plenary meeting. You won’t have to vote. Hurry up…’

In the Hunger Strike Headquarters’ tent on the other side of the terrace, Ke Xi picked up a pamphlet and said, ‘Look at this! It says it would be a grave mistake for us to leave the Square now!’ The back of his shirt was drenched in sweat. He’d lost a lot of weight during his fast. The Headquarters’ meeting appeared to be drawing to a close.

Wu Bin rushed inside, sweat pouring down his face. He’d been appointed head of the Headquarters’ intelligence office, and was preparing to set up a KGB-style anti-espionage system. He complained that the marshals still didn’t know who he was, and had tried to stop him entering the upper terrace. Whenever he finished speaking, he’d raise his eyebrows — or flex his eye muscles, to be more precise, since he didn’t have any eyebrows to raise.

‘If you walk up to them with a pair of pliers like these and say you’ve come to repair the cables, they let you straight through,’ Shao Jian said, lifting his pliers. ‘That’s what I always do.’

Cheng Bing got up to speak. Her face had become much rosier since she’d given up her fast. Or perhaps the redness was caused by sunburn. The pink leaflet in her hand looked like a slice of raw meat.

Old Fu was having a quiet word with Lin Lu. His face was sickly yellow. He looked as though he was coming down with another illness. Mou Sen was in the corner, smoking a cigarette. His goatee had grown quite long. He looked like a bohemian painter now.

An official announcement blared through the government loudspeakers: ‘While martial law is in force, foreigners are forbidden to participate in any activities which contravene the martial law edict. The military police have the right to use whatever means necessary to deal with any offenders…’

The crowds in the Square were still shouting and braying. One side of the Square yelled, ‘Reinstate Zhao Ziyang!’ while the other side shouted, ‘Protect Zhao Ziyang!’

‘If we’re going to defend ourselves against the army, we must buy weapons and start military training!’ Tang Guoxian said, punching the ground with his fist. He’d tied a red cloth around his wrist to protect his watch.

‘It’s against the law for citizens to use weapons,’ Yang Tao said.

‘We will wrest power from the government’s hands, like the French revolutionaries who stormed the Bastille!’ Wang Fei shouted through his megaphone. ‘With our blood we will build a new Paris Commune!’ The previous night, he’d managed to buy tens of thousands of towels and face masks. Bai Ling had been impressed, and had given him an appreciative hug.

The loudspeakers tied to the Monument’s obelisk screeched again, and a voice cried out, ‘This is Sister Gao speaking, deputy chairwoman of the Beijing Students’ Federation. I have an urgent announcement. We want to send a hundred students to the barricades to try and persuade our comrade soldiers to turn back. Both male and female students are welcome to volunteer…’ Her voice drowned out Wang Fei’s speech. The members of the standing committee quickly appointed Lin Lu acting commander-in-chief, then brought the meeting to a close.

Two student marshals escorted three soldiers onto the upper terrace. The soldiers said they wanted to tell the students about their refusal to implement the martial law order. The brims of their caps were drenched in sweat.